*AUTHOR'S INSERT*
Three parts to this chapter's AI.
First: a big thank-you goes out to all my reviewers once again, accompanied by a copy of Donnie Darko on DVD. You all make it much easier to attack the word processor during those dry spells. *many bows to you all*
Second: Since we're about halfway through this story of mine, I thought I'd give out the disclaimer once again. I own nothing that somebody else owns!... in this case, anything in this story that you recognize from the game. This also means that I own what you don't recognize- Ishtar, Lenath, Katalina, and so forth. *more bows*
Third: This is the fastest update I've done, though that's not saying much. The idea was to write it before the war with Iraq started. I was... two hours too late. All there is to say now is: may it end quickly, and may the deaths be few.
Take care all...
*/AUTHOR'S INSERT
8- Know Thyself
"Let's do that again," Ishtar said with a mischievous smile.
Raziel looked at the warp gate where the symbol of the human citadel wavered and vanished, then back at his daughter. "Do you find it that exhilerating?"
His daughter tapped her claws on his back and smiled wider. "After the Turelim city...? Like nothing in the world."
"Splendid. The suspense will accumulate if we save the experience for special times."
"Oh," Ishtar said in disappointment.
Raziel's eyes moved up and down the warp gate. Such gates were unfamiliar additions to Nosgoth's landscape, as far as he could remember. Yet they could not have been built by vampires alone, not when other warp gates existed in the human city and the Elder's chambers at the bottom of the Abyss. Strange to think that they operated in both the spectral and material worlds, though to tell the truth, he had never spent much thought on it. It, or anything that did not deal with death and revenge.
"We should set out," he said aloud.
Ishtar's wings folded suddenly as if they had been dipped in something hot. "Yes... such a long walk to Avernus," she said.
Raziel felt his eyebrow twitch. She knew... everything. He had no idea what to think of that. He came back to himself to see Ishtar directing a pointed look at him- well, at some point above his left shoulder.
"Hm. What is it you're trying to tell me?"
Her expression softened. "I have never been to this place."
It felt something was crumbling inside him.
"Yes," Ishtar continued. Her claws left their perch on his back as they groped toward the wall, blindly scraping over the onyx which bore the symbol of Clan Razielim. "Our homeland, devastated, profaned." Her back was to him now, and it was all he could do to keep his vision focused on the spine of dark blue hair running down to her tail. "I... have seen it, of course. But there is more to it than the look of our land." Her arm fell and she turned toward the stairwell leading away from the warp gate.
"It is in the stone..."
Ishtar stepped haltingly toward the stairs. Raziel followed, half in memory. She was right. He could not fully grasp the magnitude of what had happened to him unless he was in his own territory. And then he could comprehend all that had made his vampiric unlife so much fuller than what he lived now.
All that he had lost.
Raziel watched Isthar's face as they opened the door and stepped into what had been the center of the Razielim territory. The light from the never-dying fire at the center of the hall fell on her black skin in a rusty blaze and into her vacant eye sockets. He wondered how she saw the ruins. Again he looked at the courtyard: some clan banners, nearly gray from weathering and age, were strangely defiant as they waved in the light breeze. Broken pillars still rose along both side walls, separated by murals of intricate knotwork. At the courtyard's entrance at the opposite end from where they stood, a once brass-plated portcullis hung half-closed over the entrance. The sight of this desolation led him again to the same old sorrow, the dullness of unwelcome and unwanted change. But he could not deny a new sense tinging his awareness: there were two Razielim standing in their old homeland.
Not all had been lost... just most of it.
Ishtar smiled. "It is beautiful."
"And abandoned."
"Not entirely." She walked toward the center of the hall's tier, where a brazier decorated with knotwork flamed unchangingly. "Do you remember the summer solstice celebrations we held here?"
"Refresh my recollection."
Ishtar stepped in front of the brazier, arms and wings raised dramatically. "And now, to the delight of his children and the chagrin of his brother, our Lord Raziel presents...!" She looked to him expectantly.
Raziel shook his head.
"-The Dumahim and the Prince of Donkeys!" Ishtar finished for him. "A stunning comedy of hilarity and high adventure, written by the most esteemed playwright, Boshkus!"
"Ah. I do not recall Dumah being of the mind to appreciate that particular play."
"And what you delivered as punishment!" Ishtar laughed. She hung her head in imitation of a shamed Boshkus. "At- at the command of our Lord Raziel- ahem. This is a poem in honor of his most excellent and... incomparable brother, Dumah."
And those had been the exact words... "Boshkus possessed some talent."
"Oh, but this work ruined centuries of building a reputation. I do believe Dumah became more incensed at the apology."
"Quite characteristic of him."
They paused awkwardly, or so it seemed to Raziel.
"And the war celebrations," Ishtar murmured. "Strings of ivy for the cloisters, nets of bone for every hall. Warriors drunk on too much rich blood..."
Raziel turned away, one three-clawed hand curling in and out of a fist.
Ishtar continued, voice sounding farther and farther away. "...and the bards were suddenly much more prolific- half those deeds were never done. But the more glutted the warriors became, the less they cared for serious fare. That one, he has red hair... I think his name is... Toris, yes. He stands up and spills blood on his clothes. 'Let's have a lady's song!' His eyes are slightly crossed. And many take up the chant- 'A ballad! A ballad!' The bard obeys. And they call again. 'One for Lord Raziel!' Ah, that is a devilish grin you have. You stand, you beckon..." She trailed off. "She is quite beautiful."
"She was." Raziel turned slowly, more aware than ever of the tingling presence of the wraith blade on his arm. "But do you remember how her life was taken?"
Ishtar frowned, unconsciously coiling her tail into a spring.
"Perhaps you would grace me with a description of the genocide? Tell me, how did she die? Did fire consume her flesh, and even now do we tread on her ashen remains? Was she borne into the depths of the Abyss after me, to plummet through the burning waters forever? Or perhaps her tender body was impaled and tossed aside, left to shed her lifeblood for the gratification of *our Lord Kain*?"
Ishtar's eye sockets bore into his sightlessly. "Is that all you would remember, Father?"
Raziel turned toward the door opposite the passage to the warp gate. "That is what is left, Ishtar. A faded past of questionable glory, and a predestined future visible to all of Nosgoth, excepting myself." He laid his claws against the wood and shook his head. "But for now... the dawn comes within the hour. Perhaps we could spare a day for memory's sake."
"Yes... perhaps." Ishtar came up beside him, no longer touching his back for guidance.
She seemed to know where she was going, so Raziel shut the door behind them and allowed himself time to think. The bastard-emperor of Nosgoth lived, and although he could understand the thought intellectually, he had more trouble making it sink in. It didn't make sense, but neither did anything associated with Kain.
Kain...
The hatred bordered on obsession. Secretly, it had disturbed Raziel when he did not immediately remember who Boshkus was. having no memory of the children he meant to avenge... it made his quest, his fratricide, meaningless. When he had first emerged from the Abyss, he would not have allowed anything to delay his vengeance. Not even a child of his own.
A quote flashed in his mind: "He who fights with monsters-"
Raziel watched his daughter walking purposefully through the ruins, her steps sure and her magnificent black wings bobbing half-spread. Ishtar. He just now realized that she was everything he had hoped for in a son. Still a vampire, still a soul yanked back from its rest without consent. But there was something about her... he could not imagine Ishtar as a mortal. Surely it had never been so. She handled her power so well and with such ease, it was part of her identity.
"-this do?"
"Hmm?"
Ishtar indicated a small room cut into the stone, its doors long since rotted away.
"No rodents."
She grinned. "Rats I would not mind. After a bit of time, they are very reasonable creatures."
Raziel stuck his head in and looked around. It had probably been a storage room once. For now, there was nothing to look at- all its walls were bare.
"Strange," he said to the wall. "You call the rain to fall in torrents upon the human city. And yet, a short walk robs you of all your strength."
"A short walk! Hardly!" Ishtar said with a snort as she leaned back into a corner of the small room. "The power returned quickly enough. But had I all the power in the world, I would still be a vampire, and vampires must still feed."
"It is from hunger?"
"Somewhat. At dusk, I shall catch one of the Dumahim fledgelings wandering about."
"You most certainly will not."
Ishtar raised her eyebrows, and Raziel inwardly agreed. There were no others like him. All the same, he imagined that soul reavers were never meant to speak like anxious mortal mothers.
"Their blood runs thin as water," he continued quickly. "Neither your body nor your sense of taste would rejoice over a meal of their blood."
"A human then," she said, admirably struggling to hide her amusement. "Shall I rest now?"
"After I extract a trivial promise from your lips."
"Which is what?"
"To tell me the story of our clan... in a way that makes sense."
"I'll work on it."
"Many thanks." Raziel paused as Ishtar wrapped her wings about herself in a leathery black cocoon. He looked at her closed eyelids, almost concave as they had no eyes to give them shape. For a moment, he almost wished Turel had died under his claws after all.
He stepped away from the doorway, though he still looked inside, an odd feeling in his chest. It was like longing, but he could not define what he wanted. He wondered how many years he had spent falling in the Abyss.
"Your rest will not be disturbed," Raziel whispered. Turning, he looked to the east to watch the sun rise.
Three parts to this chapter's AI.
First: a big thank-you goes out to all my reviewers once again, accompanied by a copy of Donnie Darko on DVD. You all make it much easier to attack the word processor during those dry spells. *many bows to you all*
Second: Since we're about halfway through this story of mine, I thought I'd give out the disclaimer once again. I own nothing that somebody else owns!... in this case, anything in this story that you recognize from the game. This also means that I own what you don't recognize- Ishtar, Lenath, Katalina, and so forth. *more bows*
Third: This is the fastest update I've done, though that's not saying much. The idea was to write it before the war with Iraq started. I was... two hours too late. All there is to say now is: may it end quickly, and may the deaths be few.
Take care all...
*/AUTHOR'S INSERT
8- Know Thyself
"Let's do that again," Ishtar said with a mischievous smile.
Raziel looked at the warp gate where the symbol of the human citadel wavered and vanished, then back at his daughter. "Do you find it that exhilerating?"
His daughter tapped her claws on his back and smiled wider. "After the Turelim city...? Like nothing in the world."
"Splendid. The suspense will accumulate if we save the experience for special times."
"Oh," Ishtar said in disappointment.
Raziel's eyes moved up and down the warp gate. Such gates were unfamiliar additions to Nosgoth's landscape, as far as he could remember. Yet they could not have been built by vampires alone, not when other warp gates existed in the human city and the Elder's chambers at the bottom of the Abyss. Strange to think that they operated in both the spectral and material worlds, though to tell the truth, he had never spent much thought on it. It, or anything that did not deal with death and revenge.
"We should set out," he said aloud.
Ishtar's wings folded suddenly as if they had been dipped in something hot. "Yes... such a long walk to Avernus," she said.
Raziel felt his eyebrow twitch. She knew... everything. He had no idea what to think of that. He came back to himself to see Ishtar directing a pointed look at him- well, at some point above his left shoulder.
"Hm. What is it you're trying to tell me?"
Her expression softened. "I have never been to this place."
It felt something was crumbling inside him.
"Yes," Ishtar continued. Her claws left their perch on his back as they groped toward the wall, blindly scraping over the onyx which bore the symbol of Clan Razielim. "Our homeland, devastated, profaned." Her back was to him now, and it was all he could do to keep his vision focused on the spine of dark blue hair running down to her tail. "I... have seen it, of course. But there is more to it than the look of our land." Her arm fell and she turned toward the stairwell leading away from the warp gate.
"It is in the stone..."
Ishtar stepped haltingly toward the stairs. Raziel followed, half in memory. She was right. He could not fully grasp the magnitude of what had happened to him unless he was in his own territory. And then he could comprehend all that had made his vampiric unlife so much fuller than what he lived now.
All that he had lost.
Raziel watched Isthar's face as they opened the door and stepped into what had been the center of the Razielim territory. The light from the never-dying fire at the center of the hall fell on her black skin in a rusty blaze and into her vacant eye sockets. He wondered how she saw the ruins. Again he looked at the courtyard: some clan banners, nearly gray from weathering and age, were strangely defiant as they waved in the light breeze. Broken pillars still rose along both side walls, separated by murals of intricate knotwork. At the courtyard's entrance at the opposite end from where they stood, a once brass-plated portcullis hung half-closed over the entrance. The sight of this desolation led him again to the same old sorrow, the dullness of unwelcome and unwanted change. But he could not deny a new sense tinging his awareness: there were two Razielim standing in their old homeland.
Not all had been lost... just most of it.
Ishtar smiled. "It is beautiful."
"And abandoned."
"Not entirely." She walked toward the center of the hall's tier, where a brazier decorated with knotwork flamed unchangingly. "Do you remember the summer solstice celebrations we held here?"
"Refresh my recollection."
Ishtar stepped in front of the brazier, arms and wings raised dramatically. "And now, to the delight of his children and the chagrin of his brother, our Lord Raziel presents...!" She looked to him expectantly.
Raziel shook his head.
"-The Dumahim and the Prince of Donkeys!" Ishtar finished for him. "A stunning comedy of hilarity and high adventure, written by the most esteemed playwright, Boshkus!"
"Ah. I do not recall Dumah being of the mind to appreciate that particular play."
"And what you delivered as punishment!" Ishtar laughed. She hung her head in imitation of a shamed Boshkus. "At- at the command of our Lord Raziel- ahem. This is a poem in honor of his most excellent and... incomparable brother, Dumah."
And those had been the exact words... "Boshkus possessed some talent."
"Oh, but this work ruined centuries of building a reputation. I do believe Dumah became more incensed at the apology."
"Quite characteristic of him."
They paused awkwardly, or so it seemed to Raziel.
"And the war celebrations," Ishtar murmured. "Strings of ivy for the cloisters, nets of bone for every hall. Warriors drunk on too much rich blood..."
Raziel turned away, one three-clawed hand curling in and out of a fist.
Ishtar continued, voice sounding farther and farther away. "...and the bards were suddenly much more prolific- half those deeds were never done. But the more glutted the warriors became, the less they cared for serious fare. That one, he has red hair... I think his name is... Toris, yes. He stands up and spills blood on his clothes. 'Let's have a lady's song!' His eyes are slightly crossed. And many take up the chant- 'A ballad! A ballad!' The bard obeys. And they call again. 'One for Lord Raziel!' Ah, that is a devilish grin you have. You stand, you beckon..." She trailed off. "She is quite beautiful."
"She was." Raziel turned slowly, more aware than ever of the tingling presence of the wraith blade on his arm. "But do you remember how her life was taken?"
Ishtar frowned, unconsciously coiling her tail into a spring.
"Perhaps you would grace me with a description of the genocide? Tell me, how did she die? Did fire consume her flesh, and even now do we tread on her ashen remains? Was she borne into the depths of the Abyss after me, to plummet through the burning waters forever? Or perhaps her tender body was impaled and tossed aside, left to shed her lifeblood for the gratification of *our Lord Kain*?"
Ishtar's eye sockets bore into his sightlessly. "Is that all you would remember, Father?"
Raziel turned toward the door opposite the passage to the warp gate. "That is what is left, Ishtar. A faded past of questionable glory, and a predestined future visible to all of Nosgoth, excepting myself." He laid his claws against the wood and shook his head. "But for now... the dawn comes within the hour. Perhaps we could spare a day for memory's sake."
"Yes... perhaps." Ishtar came up beside him, no longer touching his back for guidance.
She seemed to know where she was going, so Raziel shut the door behind them and allowed himself time to think. The bastard-emperor of Nosgoth lived, and although he could understand the thought intellectually, he had more trouble making it sink in. It didn't make sense, but neither did anything associated with Kain.
Kain...
The hatred bordered on obsession. Secretly, it had disturbed Raziel when he did not immediately remember who Boshkus was. having no memory of the children he meant to avenge... it made his quest, his fratricide, meaningless. When he had first emerged from the Abyss, he would not have allowed anything to delay his vengeance. Not even a child of his own.
A quote flashed in his mind: "He who fights with monsters-"
Raziel watched his daughter walking purposefully through the ruins, her steps sure and her magnificent black wings bobbing half-spread. Ishtar. He just now realized that she was everything he had hoped for in a son. Still a vampire, still a soul yanked back from its rest without consent. But there was something about her... he could not imagine Ishtar as a mortal. Surely it had never been so. She handled her power so well and with such ease, it was part of her identity.
"-this do?"
"Hmm?"
Ishtar indicated a small room cut into the stone, its doors long since rotted away.
"No rodents."
She grinned. "Rats I would not mind. After a bit of time, they are very reasonable creatures."
Raziel stuck his head in and looked around. It had probably been a storage room once. For now, there was nothing to look at- all its walls were bare.
"Strange," he said to the wall. "You call the rain to fall in torrents upon the human city. And yet, a short walk robs you of all your strength."
"A short walk! Hardly!" Ishtar said with a snort as she leaned back into a corner of the small room. "The power returned quickly enough. But had I all the power in the world, I would still be a vampire, and vampires must still feed."
"It is from hunger?"
"Somewhat. At dusk, I shall catch one of the Dumahim fledgelings wandering about."
"You most certainly will not."
Ishtar raised her eyebrows, and Raziel inwardly agreed. There were no others like him. All the same, he imagined that soul reavers were never meant to speak like anxious mortal mothers.
"Their blood runs thin as water," he continued quickly. "Neither your body nor your sense of taste would rejoice over a meal of their blood."
"A human then," she said, admirably struggling to hide her amusement. "Shall I rest now?"
"After I extract a trivial promise from your lips."
"Which is what?"
"To tell me the story of our clan... in a way that makes sense."
"I'll work on it."
"Many thanks." Raziel paused as Ishtar wrapped her wings about herself in a leathery black cocoon. He looked at her closed eyelids, almost concave as they had no eyes to give them shape. For a moment, he almost wished Turel had died under his claws after all.
He stepped away from the doorway, though he still looked inside, an odd feeling in his chest. It was like longing, but he could not define what he wanted. He wondered how many years he had spent falling in the Abyss.
"Your rest will not be disturbed," Raziel whispered. Turning, he looked to the east to watch the sun rise.